


It Must Be Nice

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Academia, Character Study, F/M, Fatherhood, Freshman Jack, Gen, M/M, Supportive Spouses, Teen Jack, Young Jack, a love song to JLZ, academic!jack, finding yourself, jack is so very smart, mentions of past kent/jack, nhl jack, swawesome santa 2018, with artwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: A little tale about Jack’s lifelong love affair with learning, and how he kept exceeding people’s expectations—especially his own.  Written for the ‘Swawesome Santa Exchange.





	1. Different

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sophia_Prester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Prester/gifts).



> Based on the prompt: _I would love to see something about Jack's academic side and how it fits into his hockey career. Does he try to work on an advanced degree while also playing for the Falcs? Does some reporter try to drag him for being a 'dumb' jock who got a blow-off degree, only to end up looking like a complete idiot? Basically, I would love to see people's assumptions get blown out of the water._
> 
> I hope you like it, Sophia! Thanks for the great prompt <3

It didn’t take long for Alicia to realize that all he needed were a few books. Alicia sat in the WAG section and bounced two-year-old Jack on her lap. He laughed as he bobbed up and down. The Pens trailed by two, and the crowd did not hold back with their vicious boos and Jack, well, he didn’t care at all. He was happy as a clam intently looking at the two board books his maman gave him.

“Throw the bum out!” a fan yelled, and Alicia laughed as she looked down her son, content in her lap, gingerly touching the pages of his book.

“I think we might have to blow this popsicle stand early, huh, cutie?” Alicia said as she adjusted the strap on Jack’s tiny glasses. He looked up at her over the light blue plastic frames and smiled as he waved one of the books over his head.

Alicia smiled and said, “I think the _Hungry Caterpillar_ is best read at home, don’t you, Jacky?” 

She placed a soft kiss on top of Jack’s head and lifted him as she made her way out of the boisterous stadium, holding on tightly to her son who in turn held on tightly to his books.

**+++**

Jack felt he was different. He always did, although he had no idea why exactly. He wouldn’t trade hockey with papa or their wild, happy cellies for anything… but there was another part of Jack that enjoyed stillness, the quiet moments solitude offered when all he could do was just _be_.

Winter was always his favorite season. Yes, because of the snowmen, snowball fights, and outdoor ice, but also because he loved the sense of awe it gave him. He’d put on his snowsuit, run outside and toss himself onto a giant mound of snow in their backyard. 

Jack would let the cold envelop him, and he’d listen to the quiet around, the grey-white sky above… and it would almost frighten him. It would almost frighten him to get lost in these episodes, sinking into the snow, feeling the enormity of the world around him. This sense of grandness that his five-year-old self didn’t comprehend but adored. His tummy wouldn't hurt during these moments. After a while, he would get up and go back inside where maman waited for him with a hug and a warm cup of cocoa. 

He’s eight when he knows there’s definitely something different about him. He prefers the company of his parents and his teenage cousins; the kids his age just seem silly to Jack. The only time he can relate to them is when they are on the ice, and even then, he’s so much more. Jack knows this, and it fills him with simultaneous pride and shame. It makes his tummy hurt again.

One afternoon, he was reading _The Two Towers_ and maman’s friend, Meryl, was visiting from Los Angeles. They were catching up over coffee on the patio, while Jack sat at the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the water. They began to talk about Jack.

“It must be nice to have such a well-read boy,” Meryl said as they both looked over toward Jack. He pretended not to be listening.

“It is. Jack’s always been an old soul. I swear, he’s basically a little old man in the body of a boy. Except for when it comes to hockey, then there is nothing old about him,” Alicia said with fondness.

The two examined Jack briefly, and Jack felt his cheeks begin to burn.

“Just give him a book, and he’s happy as can be,” Alicia said.

“Hockey or academia, huh? That’ll be a fun choice,” Meryl replied.

Jack frowned and stared intently at his book. He wasn’t sure what Meryl meant, but he didn’t like how it made him feel.

It was shortly after that, Jack’s teacher, Ms. Beech, asked to speak to Alicia and Bob. They met with her after school while Jack waited on a chair in the hallway.

“I can’t imagine Jack being in trouble,” Bob said jokingly. “I’m the one that holds the title of Bad in the house.”

Ms. Beech smiled and looked at both Alicia and Bob thoughtfully.

“No, he’s not in any trouble. Quite the opposite, in fact,” she said. 

Ms. Beech reached into the file cabinet behind her and pulled out a manila folder. 

“We received Jack’s scores from the recent standardized tests we administered to the classroom.”

Bob and Alicia exchanged a glance.

Ms. Beech smiled. “It’s fine. Really. Jack’s scores were off the charts.”

She placed a sheet with several graphs in front of them. 

“See?” She said as she pointed at one graph. “His score in reading comprehension is literally off the chart. Math computation in the ninety-ninth percentile, language, science, all of them as well.”

Alicia smiled as Bob studied the sheet carefully.

“He’s testing at an eighth-grade level.”

“How about that,” Bob said as his lips quirked into a tiny smile. “Must be all that reading.”

“We would like to transfer him over to the gifted program—if you’d be on board with that.”

“What would that entail?” Alicia asked.

“Well, he’d be working with the middle schoolers in reading and maybe math? I can meet with the middle school teachers, and we can create some sort of cross-curricular program for him. Emotionally, socially, I think it would be best for him to stay in my classroom but for certain things, he should definitely work with the older children. We could also discuss the possibility of him skipping a grade.”

Alicia and Bob looked at one another, somewhat stunned, but not surprised at all.

**+++**

Jack sat in his AP World History class and zoned out as he began to replay the last few minutes of yesterday’s game in his head. If he had gone left, instead of right, then things might have ended differently. He began doodling alternative plays in the margin of his notebook. 

“Jack Zimmermann,” Mr. Britton said sternly as he walked toward Jack with arms crossed at his chest. “Would you agree with that assessment of the fourth Geneva Convention?”

Jack looked up, his play and train of thought interrupted. He sat taller, looked Mr. Britton dead in the eyes and replied, “Yes, I would. It spells out the obligations of the occupying power and contains relief provisions for those populations caught in occupied territory.”

Mr. Britton frowned and turned on his heel as he returned to his desk and continued his lecture.

Jack smiled and returned to his play.

High school had been easy for Jack—well, academically, it had been easy for Jack. The social aspects were always problematic. He worked hard to maintain the equilibrium between hockey and schoolwork, but lately, he had found that hockey was nudging ahead a bit. 

Last semester, Jack had five As and two Bs, and while anyone else would have been satisfied with that outcome, the two Bs were like a thorn in his side. Anything less than perfection made his anxiety spike; made his skin feel itchy.

He avoided any social interactions with peers at school, but on the ice, he had plenty to say.

“Come on!” Jack yelled. “That was an easy play, man!”

The wiry, short blond that had just joined the team (Ken, was it?) skated past Jack and flipped him off.

“Then fucking do it yourself, dude,” he called out.

Jack stood dumbfounded. Where did this kid get off?

Jack soon found out they didn't have much to talk about intellectually. Kent wasn't very bright, but Jack supposed that wasn't necessary for how they were now spending their time.

**+++**

“All I'm saying, sweetheart, is that if you wanted to try college for a semester or two, it would be all right. That's always an option,” Alicia said.

“I can't believe you went through my things,” Jack said bitterly.

Alicia sat on the edge of Jack's bed. She held acceptance letters from Harvard, Columbia, McGill, and Brown.

“I didn't. I was coming in here for your laundry and saw these on your desk. Jack, were you even going to bother telling us?”

Jack sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yes? No? I don't know…” he shrugged.

“Papa won’t care if you postpone the NHL for school,” Alicia said.

“Won’t he? Really? You can honestly say that?” Jack asked, his brow furrowed with anxiety.

“He just wants you to be happy,” she replied.

“No, he just wants me to be like him,” Jack said as he looked at his own feet—unable to meet Alicia’s gaze.

“Jack... if you weren’t interested in attending,” Alicia asked softly, “why did you apply?”

The answer was Jack wanted to go to school, he did. He loved the idea of it, but he also loved the idea of hockey—and those years were numbered. He could always go back to school at some point but hockey didn’t last forever. 

He wanted hockey. He needed to make his papa proud but he knew he couldn’t do everything. He already felt as though he were burning the candle at both ends and wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up. 

“I have the draft to think about.”

Jack took the acceptance letters from Alicia and threw them in his wastebasket as she watched sadly.

“It must be nice to be able to throw away a gift like that with such ease,” Alicia said, walked out of Jack’s room and loudly closed the door behind her.

**+++**

“We missed you in group session today, Jack,” Doctor Gupta said.

Jack had been at Andrews House for almost two weeks now and refused to take part in most sessions. He attended his one-on-one therapy after his papa pleaded with him to do so, but what was the point? With hockey now gone, what else was there?

Jack shrugged. “It’s optional.”

“But highly encouraged,” she replied.

“Still optional,” Jack said as he sat in her office and fiddled with his coffee cup and took a big gulp. 

By now the coffee had long grown cold, but he still sipped it as though it were his lifeline. He grimaced.

“How’s the coffee?” Doctor Gupta asked with a smile. “That good, huh?”

Jack frowned and put the paper cup down. He then got up and walked toward Doctor Gupta’s bookshelves. He studied the titles and pulled one out.

“You like to read?” She asked.

Jack nodded. “Once.”

“ _History’s Greatest Lies_. I just got that one,” she said. “It’s supposed to be very good. Haven’t had time to read it yet.”

Jack read the back cover and flipped through the pages.

“Would you like to borrow it?” 

Jack shrugged again.

“I tell you what,” she said, “I’ll let you borrow it on one condition.”

Jack looked at Doctor Gupta, ready to return the book to its place. 

“Yes?”

“Read it and tell me what you think.”

Jack thought about it for a moment, then nodded once and pressed the book to his chest. He offered Doctor Gupta a small smile which she returned with much warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL! Yes, _that_ Meryl. ;)


	2. Samwell

Jack leaned against the wall, surprised he was having a good time. 

Keg parties weren’t his thing but Samantha, from his English class, was there and she was easy to talk to. She was smart and sweet. She didn’t care about sports, and Jack wondered if there might be something there. They were in the middle of talking about a Ken Burns documentary they’d both enjoyed when Samantha groaned.

“What? What is it?” Jack asked as he turned to look over his shoulder.

“No, don’t turn around,” Samantha whisper-laughed. “It’s just that Bryce is coming this way.”

“Who’s Bryce?”

“This totally insufferable guy from my history class. He thinks he’s brilliant—that pedantic jerk—and is always mansplaining in class, even to the professor,” she said as she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. She then added quietly with a small frown, “I think he likes me.”

“Sammy, I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight?” Bryce said as he sidled up next to her.

“Oh, hi, Bryce,” she said flatly. “This is Jack. He’s in my American Poetry class.”

Bryce looked at Jack with disdain and examined his Samwell Men’s Hockey t-shirt.

“Hockey?” He asked.

“Yep,” Jack replied.

“How’s that poetry class working out for you? Hope you're not shocked there aren't any dirty limericks to analyze,” Bryce said.

“Well, there wouldn't be. It's an _American_ poetry class, eh?” Jack deadpanned as Samantha laughed.

Bryce ignored Jack's comment and said, “But... I’ve seen you somewhere else.” 

“Faber?” Jack asked without any real interest.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead at a game.” Bryce studied Jack, snapped his fingers then laughed. “Weren’t you just in the Swallow's ‘50 Most Beautiful?’”

Jack blushed, and Samantha piped in, “Yeah, he was.” 

She smiled reassuringly at Jack.

“It must be nice to just worry about looking good and getting those hits, or whatever, instead of actual class work and whatnot.”

Bryce turned his back to Jack and spoke to Samantha.

“So, Sammy, what did you think about that last lecture? Pretty interesting, huh? Though I have to disagree with Professor Chang on so many things.”

Jack sighed and took a tiny sip of his beer. It was warm and bitter on his tongue. 

“I thought her insights were great,” she countered.

“Yeah, I'm fairly certain it was Joseph Heller that was captured and taken to Dresden when he was with the 106th. Not Vonnegut,” he said snidely, “but it’s an easy mistake to make if you’re not paying attention.”

Jack snorted, and Bryce turned to glare at him.

Usually, Jack avoided interaction with these pseudo-intellectual types. They were just as bad as the single-minded brosephs he often encountered, but Jack couldn’t help but continue to snicker and shake his head as Bryce coldly stared at him.

“Something funny, _bro_?” Bryce asked with eyebrows raised.

“Actually, yeah… there is.”

“Would you care to enlighten us?”

Jack took another sip of his beer and said, “It was Kurt Vonnegut who was captured in Dresden. He was captured on December 19, 1944, and imprisoned at a facility called Slaughterhouse Five—which no big surprise—is where he got the title for his novel. In fact, the main character of the book, Billy Pilgrim, survived the Allied firebombing of Dresden, just like he did.”

Bryce stared at Jack, open-mouthed, while Samatha beamed.

“Oh, and Vonnegut was with the 101st infantry, not the 106th,” Jack added, “because he actually wrote a letter to his parents in which he said, ‘The 106th got a Presidential Citation and some British Decoration from Montgomery for it, I’m told, but I’ll be damned if it was worth it.’” Jack paused and said, “Hope that clears it up for you... _bro_.” 

“BRAH! HOW YOU LIKE THEM APPLES?!” Someone yelled.

Jack turned around and saw the mustache first, and the body second. It was Shitty. Shitty, who always tried to chit-chat with him during practice. Shitty who lived in the dorm room just a few doors down from Jack’s and always invited him over for brownies. Shitty, who constantly tried to engage Jack in small talk anytime he encountered him. Shitty who was now dancing and pointing at Bryce with utter glee.

“Whatever,” Bryce squawked and left in a huff.

“Jackabelle, you never told me how hilarious you fucking are, but somehow I knew it! I knew it deep in my fucking bones,” Shitty said as he threw an arm around Jack’s neck. 

“Jackabelle?” Jack said as he looked at Shitty with eyebrows raised.

Shitty pointed at Jack and said to Samantha, “This one’s a keeper! Am I right?”

Samantha nodded and blushed.

**+++**

“You know, you don’t need my help,” Jack said with a tiny smile.

“Lord, are you that sleep deprived?”

“Bits, you’re one smart cookie,” Jack said as he nudged Bitty with his pencil.

“What? Me, no—I... what?” Bitty stumbled over his words.

“You are. I think it’s very attractive, too,” Jack said as he wagged his eyebrows.

Bitty laughed and covered his face. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Study? And then probably make out?”

Bitty laughed some more. “Mr. Zimmermann, you are such a ding dong.”

Jack shrugged and tapped Bitty’s textbook with his pencil.

“Chop-chop. You can do it, but I’m here if you need me,” he said as he rose. “I’m going to make us some coffee.”

For all of Bitty’s procrastination and terrible study habits, Jack knew and appreciated how intelligent Bitty was. 

It was one thing not to like school, but it was another for Bitty to see himself as not smart. He was smart, very smart, and Jack adored that about Bitty. And even if Bitty didn’t know something, he always asked the right questions and was naturally engaged. He picked up on things quickly, and Jack loved him for it.

“Senior year is going to be the death of me,” Bitty said.

“You’re going to be fine, bud,” Jack replied, “and, besides, it's almost over.”

“I love you,” Bitty said with a warm smile as Jack handed him a cup of coffee. The smell of vanilla creamer wafted through the air.

“I love you, too,” Jack said tenderly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shitty totally [Good Will Hunted](https://media1.tenor.com/images/829e2a043a5dff9ba5cad70ff29a4022/tenor.gif) that guy! :D


	3. Golden Boy

“What are you reading now, Z?” Tater asked and plopped down on the seat next to Jack’s. The Falconers piled onto the plane and Jack placed his bookmark in the book. 

“ _Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind_ ,” Jack replied as Snowy walked past and flipped them off with a big cheesy smile.

“Nerd!” He yelled out with no real bite.

“Classy, Snowy. Real classy,” Jack said with a laugh.

“Zimmboni, you’d make a good professor,” Tater said. “You’re smart, serious, good looking. Everyone would want to be teacher’s pet.”

Jack smiled. 

The thought had occurred to him, not necessarily being a professor, per se, but going back to school. He'd be lying if he didn’t admit that he was sort of in love with the idea.

The older he got, and the closer retirement was (although it was still a good five, six years away), the prospect of going back for an advanced degree became like a siren song to him. 

He broached the subject with Bitty one night while they were snuggled up on the couch watching TV. The baby had just gone down for the night, so the two were able to relax, exhausted and happy in their domestic bubble.

“So, I was thinking of something… but I’m not sure, but I think it’s something I want?” Jack said as he gently stroked Bitty’s back.

Bitty loosened his grip on Jack and turned to face him.

“What is it?”

“It’s silly,” Jack said.

“Doubt it,” Bitty replied.

“I was thinking of going back to school. For my master’s.”

“Honey, that’s amazing,” Bitty said.

“Really?”

“Jack, yes. I think you would rock it. And I know you, I know you’ve wanted to do more—more after Samwell. You might not have said it, but I know you.”

Jack felt his heart began to race, and whether it was because Bitty kissed him or because of the possibilities, he was unsure but was happy nonetheless.

And so, he began to do some investigating.

**+++**

“I have to put together a current résumé. And, shit, I don’t think I’ve ever actually had one,” Jack groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Bitty placed a slice of pie in front of him and rubbed his shoulder. Immediately, Pearlie, who sat in Jack’s lap, reached for it.

“No thank you, Miss Pearl,” Bitty said as he gave her a teething biscuit. “So, you’ll put one together. Problem solved. Next?”

“All it’s going to say is hockey, hockey, hockey,” Jack said and sadly ate a forkful of pie.

“Nonsense! You’ll have your Samwell info on there, the work you’ve done with your family’s foundation, all the You Can Play stuff. Plenty of things! What else do they need?”

“My transcripts—”

“Pure gold!”

"Three recommendation letters, a writing sample, and a statement of purpose,” Jack said. 

“Easy as pie. Georgia, Shitty, and Brian from You Can Play,” Bitty said as he counted them off on each finger. “Done, done and done."

Jack looked at Bitty. 

“They only take six people, Bits."

"You’re going to do great, and they’ll see what everyone who knows you sees.”

“What?” Jack said softly.

Bitty cupped Jack’s face and smiled. “A sweet, brilliant, hardworking man who they would be foolish to pass up on.”

Bitty reached down, took Pearlie out of Jack’s lap and kissed her plump cheek. Jack smiled and felt tears begin to prick his eyes. 

“Now eat your pie, mister.”

**+++**

> _Jack L. Zimmermann_  
>  _Statement of Purpose_  
>  _Master’s of American Studies_  
>  _Brown University_
> 
> _Throughout my entire life, education was something that had been drilled into me as a means to an end rather than a source of pride and accomplishment. One went to high school, possibly college, and afterward, did something with one’s life. My parents are both very bright people, but there was no romance in learning, no elegant exchange of ideas; you attended, graduated, and that was the end of it._
> 
> _This was confusing to me, even as a very young child, for I was in love with learning, with the collection of thoughts and theories. I taught myself to read when I was four. I was obsessed with the sun, the stars, and the planets in the sky. Greek gods and goddesses were my friends and acquaintances; books my treasures. When I was seven, I hand-wrote a newspaper to distribute to neighbors. All of this brought me a simple joy I can still recall._
> 
> _I always tested above average in school and was a voracious and precocious reader. Still, education—that is, sitting at a desk, mindlessly memorizing facts and figures—was something I never thought I could really be a part of. It intrigued me, and I appreciated it, but I often felt at odds with it. Learning was something I cherished. Education, not so much, for it seemed like a very separate entity from the fascination I felt in acquiring knowledge._
> 
> _In high school, I was told that I could skip my junior year and graduate early. I passed on that opportunity, and then life handed me a curveball—and I took a detour. I wasn’t sure where my life was headed after that. Eventually, I made my way again and found myself at Samwell University with a newfound freedom I hadn’t experienced before. I was older than most freshmen and somewhat socially ill-equipped, but I was happy knowing I was back on a long-missed road to… something, though I had no idea what. Still, I grateful to be there._
> 
> _When I was in middle school, I was embarrassed by my intelligence. I would occasionally feign not knowing the answers in class for fear of being ridiculed or seen as The Other. I wanted to fit in. As I grew older, I realized fitting in was irrelevant. I was smart, I was kind, I was determined, and I was angry at myself for betraying who I was. My time at Samwell allowed me to see my abilities as a badge of honor._
> 
> _It was at Samwell where I truly fell in love with education—my education—once again. My major was history, and I eagerly dove into my academic work. I loved going to classes. I enjoyed the back and forth of the discussions. I became friendly with my professors. I adored the reading and writing of papers. I found a perfect balance between my school work and hockey. It now seemed like a very natural thing for me._
> 
> _I was on the Dean’s List every semester and part of Samwell’s honors society. The passion I felt so long ago for learning came alive once again. I found deep satisfaction in school that I had never experienced before. I graduated with honors and felt I had finally found my way home. And, I was happy._
> 
> _After Samwell, my life changed yet again. I began to play professional hockey in the NHL for the Providence Falconers. My days were filled with hockey but while on the road, I once again found time to read, to explore authors and genres that were out of my comfort zone, to push myself in small ways. My teammates jokingly began to call me The Professor._
> 
> _The idea of grad school seemed like an impossibility for me. Who had the time? Still, I could not deny that I have been thoroughly enamored with the thought. Upon the encouragement of my amazing husband, I began looking into several programs, and I thought maybe the idea was not so far-fetched after all. I explored programs at Harvard, Johns Hopkins, and Cornell but none seemed the right fit. The more I investigated, however, the more I knew I absolutely wanted to enroll in school once again._
> 
> _When I learned about the Master’s of American Studies program at Brown, I was instantly intrigued. The prestige of the university, the unique approach the program took, along with the online component, fit my lifestyle as an eager student, full-time athlete, husband and father._
> 
> _I know I won’t play hockey forever. Retirement is not that far down the line, and I look toward it with a simultaneous sense of dread and relief. What my post-NHL life will hold, I am not sure, but I know that I will be ready for whatever may arise._
> 
> _I will be prepared emotionally and academically, coming from a well-known and respected institution, knowing that I am doing this for myself and the love of it all. I can marry all of my academic interests—history, literature, art—while investing in my future. I can learn about a myriad of subjects, as well as learn about myself._
> 
> _Finding Brown’s program, at the time I did, served as a reminder that life can continue to be an adventure, even an educational one, if you want it to be, and open yourself to it._

**+++**

Jack yawned as he pulled his laptop into bed with him. It had been a long day, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had checked his email. Bitty was fast asleep next to him, and Jack leaned over to pull the blankets up a little higher; he knew Bitty loved to be buried in a blanket burrito. He could hear Pearlie’s soft snores coming from the baby monitor.

He logged onto his Gmail and froze when he saw the message sitting there from Brown. _Admission Decision is Ready_.

Jack felt his heart begin to race, and he wanted to wake Bitty up. He took a deep breath, clicked on the link, and frowned when he saw it was a form letter with no real answer.

> _Dear Jack L. Zimmermann,_
> 
> _An admissions decision has been made on your application to the Master of American Studies program within The Department of American Studies at Brown University._
> 
> _Please log back into your online application to see your decision by following this link._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Office of Admissions_  
>  _Department of American Studies_  
>  _Brown University_  
>  _401-863-1000_

“Bits,” Jack said softly. “Bitty? Can you wake up?”

Bitty turned to face Jack and slowly blinked his eyes open. 

“Sweetpea, what’s wrong? Is Pearlie okay?”

“I… euh, I got an email from Brown.”

Bitty instantly sat up and looked at Jack with excitement. “And?”

“I didn’t open it, yet.”

Bitty leaned over and pressed a kiss onto Jack’s cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

“But, we don’t know what they said yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Jack smiled at Bitty, then clicked on the link. He logged onto his application and took a deep breath.

“Dear Jack, on behalf of the Department of American Studies, we are pleased to inform you—”

Bitty screamed and jumped up onto his knees as Jack flung his laptop onto the bed. 

“I’m in!” He yelled. “ _Crisse_! I’m in!”

The two hugged one another and Bitty cried out, “I knew it! I knew you could do it!”

Jack laughed as Bitty peppered his face with kisses.

“Do they… offer a Ph.D. in American Studies?” Bitty asked breathlessly.

Jack beamed. 

“Yeah, they do.”

**+++**

George called Jack into her office, and Jack wasn’t sure why exactly. Her text merely read, _Please see me when you have a moment._

Jack swallowed dryly. Was he in trouble?

He knocked gingerly on George’s door.

“Jack, hey. Please, come in,” she said as she motioned to the chair.

“Um, thanks,” he said and gripped the armrests tightly.

“So, I hear you’re back in school, huh?” George asked. She shuffled some papers on her desk, then folded her hands.

“George, it’s not going to interfere with my game, I swear. Most of my work is online and—”

“Jack, relax. I was going to say if you need some alone time now and then, just let me know, and I’ll make sure the guys step off and leave you to your work.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” George smiled. 

“Is that all?” Jack said.

“Yeah, that and the fact that the owners are practically peeing their pants at the PR this is generating. Grad school at Brown. Their golden boy is also a scholar. Everyone is eating this up with a spoon.”

“Glad I could be of assistance,” Jack said petulantly.

George laughed. “Get outta here, you!”

Jack smiled and made his way to the door.

“And Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Nice going, Captain,” George said warmly.

**+++**

It was always a pain in the ass whenever a new reporter made their way to the pressers. It usually meant one of the media regulars was out sick, had been transferred, or had just quit, and the newbie had to learn the culture of the Falconer presser.

It was doubly painful when the new person was either arrogant or blissfully unaware of who was who, and who did what within the team—even more so when the reporter was the rare combination of the two: arrogant and ignorant.

By now, the news of Jack being in grad school was old hat but for some, it was low hanging fruit. 

"Were you concerned at all about how tonight's change in rotation might have panned out?" Marie Thomson from ESPN asked.

"I thought it worked out well. The bottom line is we do whatever changes we feel are needed to win. What works for the team, eh?” Jack replied. “We won, and it was a good game for everyone.”

“Jack, how is school going? Are you still doing that? Or did you drop it?” the new guy from Deadspin asked. Jack had seen him only once before and couldn’t recall what his name was.

Jack frowned. 

“No, it’s good.”

Jack was generally loath to answer any non-hockey related questions, but he figured his lack of enthusiasm would make the guy drop it.

“It doesn’t get in the way of game time, does it?”

Jack exhaled. “No, it doesn’t.”

The guy pressed on.

“I mean, how distracting can it be, right? I’m sure your school is probably giving you a ton of leeway,” the reporter said smugly. “It must be nice.”

“Zimmboni is working on Master’s at Brown,” Tater said. “No leeway given. Is probably smartest guy in this room.”

“Yeah, the only C Jack has ever gotten is the one on his jersey!” Poots added.

“Guys,” Jack said as he raised his hand, “it’s okay.”

“Brown?” the reporter said quietly. He then got all cocky once more as he tried to save face. “Is your thesis going to be something sports-related?”

“No, actually it’s an interdisciplinary analysis of the cultural underpinnings of U.S. foreign policy from 1972 to the present. So no… not sports-related unless I find hockey involved in there somehow. You never know.”

Tater snorted.

“Oh,” the guy answered plainly as the other reporters in the room snickered.

“However, to answer this last non-hockey-related question, yes, I’m currently working on my Master’s in American Studies at Brown. I’m hardly the first professional athlete to pursue an advanced degree. There’s Myron Rolle and Pat Haden in the NFL, Ken Dryden in the NHL to name a few, but there are countless others. It’s hard to balance work, school and parenthood, but I’m making it work. Luckily, my husband is very supportive and patient.”

“But… why bother?” the reporter asked, still stupefied.

“Well, there is more to life than hockey, you know,” Jack said, and everyone laughed.

Jack smirked as the reporter quickly sat down, beet-red in the face.

“Next question?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That reporter's soul momentarily left his body...


	4. It Must Be Nice

“Doctor Zimmermann? Can I ask you something about the reading for next class?”

Jack smiled and pushed his glasses up a little higher.

“Of course. What is it?”

“Do you want us to read both the PDF and the chapters, or just the chapters? I wasn’t sure.”

“Read the two chapters by Hofstadter, and I emailed everyone letting you know the e-article is for Friday.”

“Thanks, Doctor.”

“Sure, email Victoria if you have any questions. She’ll be handling Friday's class for me.”

Jack placed the stack of papers left on his lectern inside his messenger bag. He then felt a presence at his side and smiled.

“Is it tacky to say I’m hot for teacher?”

Jack laughed and nudged Bitty with his bag. “Not if I’m the teacher.”

“Ready to go? The car’s all packed, and Pearlie is waiting outside.”

“Yep. My TA is set for Friday, and I’ll grade these papers in the car. Luckily, it’s a three-hour drive,” Jack said as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

“She has her heart set on Sarah Lawrence. I hope it goes well,” Bitty said.

“Well, she’d get into Samwell—not sure why she won’t give it a shot. She’d be a third generation Wellie,” Jack huffed. “Or Brown! I mean, come on.”

“The girl has a mind of her own and when it comes to her schooling. She knows what she wants,” Bitty said. “Sound like anyone we know?”

Jack laughed. They exited the building, hand-in-hand, and Bitty motioned down the street toward their car. 

“Lord, it must be nice to be so sure about what you want your educational life to look like. You know?”

Jack smiled. ”Yeah, it really is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write. I adore Jack, so I love singing his praises. A lot of this is based on my own personal experiences as well. 
> 
> Teluete made an amazing [Professor Jack](http://teluete.tumblr.com/post/181221528773/wrathofthestag-sexylazymercymama-teluete-it) drawing. Be sure to let her know how beautiful it is.
> 
> Come and say [hi on Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> All OMGCP characters belong to Ngozi Ukazu.


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